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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25931302">The Poison We Both Have Inside Is the Same</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahhhmer/pseuds/dahhhmer'>dahhhmer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story: 1984, Historical Criminals RPF, Serial Killers - Fandom, True Crime - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - American Horror Story, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, American Horror Story: 1984 - Freeform, Cock &amp; Ball Torture, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 08:40:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25931302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahhhmer/pseuds/dahhhmer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But when Richard Ramirez joins their ranks — young, beautiful Ricky, dead at twenty-four and all smug smirks and high cheekbones and youthful confidence — Jeff can't help his attraction. Richard is his exact opposite in almost all things, perhaps the most important of them being his sexuality, and yet Jeff comes to desire him more than he thinks he's ever desired another man in his existence, alive or undead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeffrey Dahmer/Richard Ramirez</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Poison We Both Have Inside Is the Same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trust me, I'm just as ashamed to have written this as you are to have clicked on it. For this universe, just imagine Jeff is older &amp; was active in the sixties, or something. Also, characterization is 80% based on AHS rather than real life. I am well aware this is pretty out of character when compared to what they were like in real life.</p><p>Unbeta'd. Titled after If I'm Crazy by Amigo the Devil.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jeff doesn't mean to stare.</p><p>It's not like he's entirely unhappy spending his afterlife like this. He gets new boys with some regularity, and when he's bored, he can just hunt down one of the other ghosts in the camp. Mostly, though, he sticks to himself, because Montana likes to get creative with her punishments when she catches Jeff doing something she doesn't approve of.</p><p>But when Richard Ramirez joins their ranks — young, beautiful Ricky, dead at twenty-four and all smug smirks and high cheekbones and youthful confidence — Jeff can't help his attraction. Richard is his exact opposite in almost all things, perhaps the most important of them being his sexuality, and yet Jeff comes to desire him more than he thinks he's ever desired another man in his existence, alive or undead.</p><p>Richard notices, of course. It only surprises Jeff just how long it <i>takes</i> him to notice.</p><p>"I'm not a faggot," Richard says without preamble, shoving Jeff back against the splinter-covered logs of one of the cabins. He holds a hunting knife to Jeff's throat and looks down his nose with all the disdain of a man looking at a smear of shit on the bottom of his boot. Jeff has never been a submissive man, but he thinks he'd die over and over again just to stay right here, pinned against a moldering cabin by this beautiful young man. "I need you to stop looking at me like you wanna eat me. You're not gonna touch me, you fuckin' freak."</p><p>"I haven't tried, have I?" Jeff says quietly, refusing to avoid Richard's eyes the way part of him wants to. The knife doesn't bother him. He must have died at the hands of one at least two dozen times when he first came to Camp Redwood. "But do you think it matters to me — <i>me</i> — that you don't want me?"</p><p>Richard sneers in disgust, pressing the knife that much harder to Jeff's throat. Jeff doesn't react even as it draws a significant amount of blood, probably nicking an artery. He just stares passively at Richard over the rim of his glasses.</p><p>Neither of them speaks for a long moment. If pressed, Jeff doesn't think he could tell just how long passes. Time works differently for the spirits at Camp Redwood; it could be seconds or months. But just when it seems Richard is getting ready to slit his throat and be done with it, Jeff says in that same calm tone, "You know, they place us on the same level, but I don't think that's fair. I don't think that's fair at all. You killed old women in their beds. I think you're a lot weaker than me."</p><p>Completely objectively, the last bit is at least true. Jeff has been here much longer than Richard, and though in life they may have been better matched, the rules are different when you're dead. Those who have stuck around longest grow stronger by the day — at least the ones who haven't entirely lost themselves and their minds over time. Jeff had been here for a decade before Richard arrived, and now it's been nearly a decade since.</p><p>Richard stares at him in cold surprise for a few seconds. Then he shoves the knife straight through Jeff's windpipe with enough force to sever his spinal cord. "Shut the fuck up, Dahmer," he says, and Jeff doesn't fight it as he feels himself die for the nth time.</p><p>—</p><p>Jeff comes back, of course, and he manages to avoid Richard for an indeterminable amount of time before running across him again. Camp Redwood is big, but it's not that big, so it doesn't exactly shock him when he stumbles across Richard while he's in the middle of overpowering one of the camp counselors killed by Margaret Booth in the seventies. Jeff doesn't step in, doesn't do or say anything at first; just watches with a sort of detached curiosity, standing in the treeline with his hands in his pockets. The girl kicks at Richard, screams, screams louder when she catches sight of Jeff standing nearby and watching in silence. Richard still doesn't notice him, too busy with the task at hand.</p><p>But when the girl begs Jeff for help, he reluctantly speaks up. He never could quite stomach violence against women in the same way he could stomach violence against men. Gently, quietly, he reminds the girl, "You're older than him. You're stronger."</p><p>A flash of recognition lights in her eyes. Her visage flickers like a television with bad reception, and then she's gone, leaving a furious Ramirez kneeling in the grass with his pants around his thighs, a knife between his teeth, and a murderous glare leveled at Jeff.</p><p>Jeff shrugs and lets his curious gaze drift lower, down to Ramirez's still-hard cock. He's only human, after all, or at least human-shaped. Richard must notice quickly, because he growls and roughly pulls up his jeans, already stalking across the little clearing toward Jeff.</p><p>"Why can't you mind your own fucking business for ten seconds? I already killed you once, you fuckin' queer, do you really need me to do it again?"</p><p>"Watch your tone," Jeff says calmly, but with an acidic edge. It's the only warning Ramirez will get.</p><p>"Watch my <i>tone?"</i> Ramirez repeats, laughing incredulously. "Or <i>what?</i> Huh? <i>Faggo—</i>"</p><p>Richard doesn't even get the chance to finish the word before Jeff is on him, pinning him easily back to the nearest tree with one hand wrapped firmly around each wrist. Richard looks shocked, for a moment, then starts to writhe. Jeff watches him with something like detached curiosity, shoving one knee between Richard's legs and pressing his hips forward to keep him in place.</p><p>They're both hard, now. Jeff tilts his head, curious, and Richard stills for a moment, shocked.</p><p>"Get the fuck <i>off</i> of me," Richard hisses, immediately starting to struggle again. But Jeff has been here much longer, and he's quite unmoved by Richard's violent reaction. He doesn't even seem to register Richard's words, really. In fact, rather than move away, Jeff grinds his hips forward against Richard's roughly, punching a surprised gasp out of the younger ghost.</p><p>"You're hard," Jeff says finally, leaning in to sniff at Richard, who snaps his teeth at him. Jeff smiles. "You've never seemed the type to enjoy being rendered helpless. Quite the opposite. But I guess I should have known, with the way Miss Duke had you wrapped around her little finger for a time."</p><p>"She didn't—"</p><p>"She did," Jeff interrupts, still with that eerie calm, and he grinds against Richard again, just this side of too harsh. "I know you're quite fond of womens' feet. Did she have pretty ones, I wonder? Did you let her walk all over you with them? Kick you in the balls, maybe?"</p><p>"No!" Richard snaps, but Jeff can tell that he definitely touched a nerve there, and he smiles again. Richard is still quite hard, and when Jeff pushes his knee up into Richard's crotch hard enough to make it hurt, the noise Richard makes can't be mistaken for anything but what it is: pure, unfiltered arousal.</p><p>"Oh," Jeff says, genuinely surprised. He considers his options for a second, then spins Richard around, shoving his face against the tree trunk with a hand tangled in Richard's long hair. Richard snarls and struggles, but even with his hands free there's not much he can do.</p><p>Still, though — Jeff hums, pinning Richard in place with his hips so he can use both hands. He tugs a grey bandana from his back left pocket and ties Richard's wrists with minimal struggle, then ruts forward against Richard's ass, grunting quietly as he does.</p><p>"What the fuck are you doing?" Richard demands, and Jeff laughs this time, low and quiet.</p><p>"Don't ask stupid questions," Jeff replies.</p><p>Jeff rather wishes Ramirez would settle down already, let him do this without moving or behaving at all much like a living person, but there's nothing to be done about it, not with a ghost. He's never had much of a taste for watching his boys struggle, but beggars can't be choosers, and Jeff has been learning to enjoy the act regardless of how much his boys try to fight him off.</p><p>Actually — in this case, it's sort of thrilling, Jeff thinks as he yanks Richard's jeans down again. He undoes his own with far more (but still wavering) restraint. Richard Ramirez may be weaker than him in death, but in life, they'd be well-matched — especially without Jeff having the opportunity to drug him like he always did to his boys when he was alive. Richard is a predator, the Night Stalker, and he's entirely at Jeff's mercy. Entirely helpless as Jeff shoves two fingers, and then three, into his tight hole with a pained grunt and only a little spit to ease the way.</p><p>"You ever let Montana do this?" Jeff asks quietly, reserved, and Richard pushes back against him in what is probably an attempt to push him off — but instead, the motion just shoves Jeff's fingers further inside him, making the pads of his fingers press against Richard's prostate. Richard <i>howls</i>, pain and unwilling pleasure combining into one enraged sound, and Jeff rests his forehead against the back of Richard's head, taking in the scent of him.</p><p>It's curious how that scent lingers even after death.</p><p>Jeff doesn't bother with a whole lot of preparation; he obviously doesn't care if it hurts Richard. All he cares about is easing the way for himself, and once he feels he's done a sufficient job, Jeff spits on his own cock and gives himself a couple rough jerks.</p><p>"Wait," Richard pants, and his struggling has gotten weaker over the past minute or two, but this time he goes completely still. Jeff doesn't fall for it. "Wait, Dahmer, c'mon. Don't—"</p><p>Jeff doesn't want to hear it. He pushes in all at once, and Richard's quiet, mortified plea trails off into a groan that's definitely more pain than pleasure, this time. Jeff feels something inside Richard tear, feels the telltale heat of blood on his cock just as he feels the heat of Richard's insides all around him, and he twists one hand into Richard's hair again, grunting quietly against his neck. Richard curses and squirms, but Jeff has him pinned.</p><p>"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you," Jeff says, and he wraps one hand around Richard's cock with a grip tight enough to make Richard scream again.</p><p>The real kicker is that Richard's dick is as hard as fucking diamond.</p><p>Jeff wastes no time in setting a brutal pace, already close just from the rush of power and adrenaline. Richard goes silent, probably biting his tongue so hard that it bleeds, and that thought is enough to make Jeff tighten his grip on Richard's cock again. He yanks at it, harsh and unforgiving, and relishes in the pained noise Richard can't quite keep back.</p><p>Jeff's breathing is harsh as he trails his hand down a little further, caressing Richard's balls. Richard's hips jerk, but there's nowhere to go; all he succeeds in doing is pressing his sore dick harder against the rough tree bark in front of him. Jeff squeezes Richard's balls, a nice slow press that slowly gets harder, and Richard startles both of them by coming all over himself with a shout, cock pressed hard between the tree and his own stomach.</p><p>Another few thrusts and Jeff follows suit, grunting low and rough against Richard's ear. Richard is still, perhaps catching his breath, and Jeff relaxes his grip on Richard's hair and balls as he comes down from his own orgasm.</p><p>Richard catches him off guard when he suddenly, roughly shoves Jeff of of him, but Jeff isn't particularly surprised. He isn't surprised when Richard straddles his waist, either. He <i>is</i> surprised that when he finally sees Richard's face, it's streaked with tears. The anger in his eyes, though — the anger is expected. Probably deserved.</p><p>Richard doesn't say anything. He just takes a knife from his ankle holster and drives it straight through Jeff's breastplate and into his heart with one remarkable show of strength.</p><p>And then again. And again. And again. Over and over for a good five minutes, until Jeff's ghost flickers out of existence and comes back near the dilapidated wooden archway at the front of Camp Redwood.</p><p>Jeff whistles <i>Paranoid</i> as he wanders off into the woods.</p>
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